Firelight
by Beyblade Community Project
Summary: Wise men say, 'On wrongs swift vengeance waits.' He has been wronged, and he wants his revenge. When detective Hiro Granger and his team of investigators take on this case, it is not easily solved. But they will rise to the challenge. A Community Project
1. The Beginning

_The Beginning  
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by **PandaPjays

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It begins with fire.

It always does, really. Someone strikes a light and a new life is born. Like any other life, fire will struggle for survival in even the harshest of conditions, clinging to life with the kind of tenacity that is so often celebrated in inspirational movies. And that life is glorious; that life is filled with beauty and unpredictability and light.

He smiled as the fire slowly consumed the match he was holding. People often forget that, like any being struggling for life, fire will consume and destroy the things around it. Like animals, like people, fire will prioritise its own survival over that of its surroundings.

He licked his finger and snuffed out the flame.

For him, everything ended in fire.

-o-

Robert Jurgen was rich. Filthy Filthy rich. And he wasn't apologetic about it.

Other people in his class (That is, the class most people can't afford the stationary for) had an absurd feeling of guilt. Like they should somehow be _ashamed_ of the silver spoons they'd been born with, of the castle they grew up in and of the incredibly attractive gold diggers throwing themselves at their feet. They tried to appease this guilt through charity work or, God forbid, living like _normal people_.

Robert generally regarded such people as being a special brand of crazy. He _liked _that the most stressful part of his day was organising his next tennis match. He _liked_ that he didn't know what the inside of a supermarket looked like.

He also liked the way his status took away any and all risk. No matter what he did, even if his endeavours failed miserably, he always had _the money_ to fall back on. It meant that whatever he did was always purely for entertainment; He did things purely to see if he could get away with them.

Last year it had been dabbling in some good. old fashioned embezzlement. He had delighted in the way that by simply switching a few numbers and columns around he could make money disappear and turn up quite naturally in his own bank accounts. Not that he needed it, mind you, but it was interesting seeing just how _easy_ it all was.

But boring.

Now he was into something that required much more skill, much more _finesse_.

Art Forgery.

Not that he actually had to dirty his hands with any kind of _paint_ (or turpentine or whatever it is they used. Robert made it his business not to know these things). Oh No. He had people for that. Currently he employed Oliver Polanski, a ridiculously talented Frenchman who had fallen behind on payments to some less than savoury people in the city. He was trading his work and silence for a modest cut and Robert's protection.

When it came down to it, Robert was just the one who brought it all together. He sourced the correctly dated canvas, the paints made and mixed in the same way long dead artists would have done it. He helped convince gullible people that he had just uncovered a long lost Monet or that he had been hiding a Matisse long thought destroyed in his private collection. He didn't handle the mechanics of the business but, without him, it wouldn't run.

And business was good.

His phone began buzzing in his pocket. He sighed and fished for it, checking the caller ID before answering. "Yeah, Johnny?"

"_I just got off the phone with that Italian shmuck He keeps asking after the Cezanne we hinted at last month._"

Okay, so Robert didn't handle _everything_ by himself. His best friend and partner in the eternal struggle to always find something more entertaining than whatever they were already doing did his part. Mostly that part involved actually talking to people. Johnny had the ability to make people like him simply by flashing his cocky smirk. Robert... not so much.

"French put the finishing touches on that only last week. We still need at least a month to process and check all the details. Stall him."

"_If it's so far away from being ready, why did you tell me to start pushing it? There's such thing as too early, you know._"

Robert smirked, "If you can't handle it..."

"_Oh shut up. I'm not the one who's trying to sell off fake art he doesn't even have._" Though his words were annoyed, Robert could hear the smile in his friend's voice. Johnny would take care of it. He always did. "_Am I still right to stay at yours tomorrow? I'm flying in at midday_."

Robert looked around the huge room he was sitting in. "It'll be difficult finding room for you, it's quite an imposition, you know, but I'm sure I'll manage."

Johnny laughed, "_Yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow_."

"Goodbye." Robert ended the call and sighed, tossing the phone on to a convenient table. He lay down on the couch he'd been sitting on. He was looking forward to seeing Johnny again. It'd been a few months since he'd last seen his friend. On the face of it, Johnny was coming to collect the latest pieces Oliver had finished. In reality, they would probably spend their time catching up, plotting what they would do next when the world of forged artwork lost its appeal. Robert could already feel the slight uneasiness in the pit of his stomach that often signalled that it was time to move on.

He closed his eyes and relaxed. He even might fit in a few chess games with Johnny. Maybe the Scotsman had gotten better.

He felt the bag fit over his head and a cord tighten around his neck. He cried out and struggled to sit up. Strong arms held him down.

"You did this to me." A voice, too laced with anger to be recognisable.

"What? Wha—" He managed before he felt a prick in his arm. The arms held him down as he struggled against whatever was coursing through his system until his arms and legs wouldn't respond anymore. As his body relaxed, Robert strained to do something _anything_.

But he couldn't, He could still feel his arms as they were bound tightly to the couch he was lying on. He could feel the way the rope bit into his sensitive skin, the way the hands tying the knots moved with surety and determination.

He wondered dully if he was being taken hostage— how much they'd demand for his feedom. He began to mentally calculate how much money he could lay his hands on immediately. He knew it was more than enough to make even the most self-righteous feel the twinge of greed. It would be enough.

It had to be.

The hands stopped their work and moved to rest on Robert's shoulders, his attacker's lips next to his ear.

"It's your turn now," he whispered before he withdrew. Robert twisted his head, trying to locate his attacker. Where—?

He frowned as he smelled a familiar scent. He couldn't place it...

It wasn't until he felt the flames lapping at his feet that he realised what it was. And began to scream.

-o-

"Really, Rei? Really? _This_ is how you treat our years of friendship and trust? By bartering it away on a cheap career opportunity?"

A warm laugh came down the telephone, "_Aw, come on, Mariah. You know how big this is for me. You could at least be happy, you know._"

Mariah rolled her eyes. "If you'd gotten the job purely from your own skills rather than through a casual mention that you've got a friend in the police department, I'd be happy for you. As it is, I'm already feeling hunted. Do you know what they _do_ to people who leak things to the press?"

Rei laughed again. "_Well, considering they're the police I don't think it'd be harmful to your health. Besides, it's not like you can help that one of your friends just became the official crime reporter in the most popular newspaper in town!"_ Mariah heard the faint sounds of cheers in the background and refrained from facepalming. "_I'm going to be famous!"_

"Only if you can rein in that ego a little, Mister," she rebuked. "Look, I _am_ happy for you, I really am. You deserve it after so many years of photocopying and making up the astrology."

Rei made a sound of disgust, "_Thanks for bringing that up. I was trying to forget._"

"Just pointing out that you've come a long way and I'm proud of you," Mariah said, idly playing with a pencil on her desk. "But we're going to have to talk about this whole 'friend in the police' business."

"_Yes, Ma'am! But for now, I'm going to go celebrate by drinking until I can't even spell the word 'crime'! Bye!"_

"Wait—" the sound of the dial tone greeted her words. "Gah!" She threw down the phone in disgust.

Brooklyn stared at her, trying to work out if he should say anything to her or remain silent. It was strange, give him a room with a bunch of violent criminals set on first not telling you anything and second on outright murder and he was fine. He'd been trained to deal with situations like that first through his experience as a trained psychologist and second through his time with the police. But trying to decipher one of Mariah's moods was still beyond him.

If he failed to offer any kind of support when she deemed she needed it he would have his ears, and arse, ripped off and handed to him on a grimy paper plate. On the other hand, if he said something when she wanted to seethe instead of talk well... let's just say there was a reason there was a rumour that Mariah's nails turned into claws when she'd had enough.

"We've got a case!" Detective Hiro Granger, Mariah's and Brooklyn's boss and all-around slave driver walked into the room with a grin on his face. "A real, honest-to-God case! One that hasn't been stolen by our esteemed colleagues in the other offices!"

By 'other offices' Hiro actually meant 'better offices'. There were two homicide departments in the city. One of them utilised and excelled at policing. That is, taking the standard route of looking for clues, interviewing suspects and doggedly following every lead until they found the natural and logical conclusion. It was effective and it was the method juries and the police commissioner trusted. It was also run by Hiro's little brother, Tyson. The fact that Tyson's team was so favoured had been a sore point between the brothers for a while.

Hiro's team, on the other hand, excelled at what was uncharitably termed by Tyson 'weird shit'. Hiro had found a team with a diverse range of specialities and skills that, when combined, were uncannily good at solving crimes without the need for the methodical and systematic approach of Tyson's team. It was unconventional but it worked. Unfortunately, due to those unconventional methods they were normally relegated to cold cases. Ones that regular police work hadn't been able to solve. It was rare that they were handed a live one. Or a dead one, as it were.

Mariah perked up. "Seriously? Like, one with a dead body that hasn't already been buried or anything?" The grin on her face said it all. "Today is the best day ever!" She stood and reached for her jacket which had been draped over her desk chair. "What are we waiting for? There could be evidence! Real, live evidence!" She hummed happily as she pulled on her jacket and began to walk out of the office.

She paused and turned to look at Hiro and Brooklyn who were staring at her both horrified and bemused at the same time. "What?"

"...Don't you think you're being a little... ghoulish?" Brooklyn asked, still very aware that he was trying to stay on Mariah's less-bad side.

She sighed. "Brooklyn," she began in an all-too-patient-voice, "I know that dead people kind of aren't your thing. You like them when they've still got some kind of brain function. I get that. But," here she held up a finger, "For the first time in a really long time we get to do something _I'm_good at. Be happy for me." She didn't have to add the _or else_. Brooklyn knew people. He knew it was there.

"Good? Good." She flounced out of the office, leaving Hiro and Brooklyn to hurriedly gather their things and follow her.

-o-

Kai stared at the charred corpse that had once been one of the richest men in the city, his eyes narrowed in thought. Hiro had called him and told him to meet the team at the scene and he was patiently waiting.

Hiro hadn't specified that he wasn't allowed to patiently wait in the same room as the corpse so Kai had let himself in. It wasn't like he was going to touch the body. That work was for the police—the girl they had working for them. He just needed some time alone to think before the chaos of the police in action intruded and destroyed the... he called it ambience but that was only for lack of a better word.

When a murder happened there was a disruption in the order of the world. Things that were supposed to go in _this_ place ended in _that _place. The uneasiness that makes people unconsciously straighten a painting or correct a mistake in alphabetical order is present in a room where someone has been murdered. And, equally unconsciously, people struggle to right the world, to rid it of the anomaly.

And obliterating Kai's evidence.

Kai closed his eyes and felt the uneasiness and, instead of trying to fix it, he let it guide him. There was a pattern to the world and a murderer had disrupted the pattern. It was his job to recognise the new shape the world lay in and let it lead the way to their killer.

**TBC**

* * *

This chapter was written by **PandaPjays** for the Beyblade Community Project.

* * *

_The Beyblade Community Project is a giant collaborative, improvisational fan fiction with a different author contributing a new chapter every week._

Do _you _want to write the next chapter? Do you know what happens next?_  
_

_**Get Involved**  
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Visit our profile and post in the forum to find out how. Don't be shy, in order for this to work we need your help!


	2. Sick Little Game

_Sick Little Game

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_by **JamieRay

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**

As expected, the arrival of the detectives, if they could be called that, was nothing short of disturbing. Kai stood back surveying the room, the damage they had done was irreversible, it was a good thing he had arrived early, he wasn't sure he'd be able to work with _this_.

"Well we can put Pyro on his profile for sure." Brooklyn commented mildly, he too seemed to be surveying the damage. Kai refrained from rolling his eyes, he could have determined that much. He didn't much understand the concept of having the shrink on the field, but Hiro insisted.

"Figure anything out?" The detective in charge came up to stand beside him.

"Isn't that your job, Detective?" Hiro sighed, Kai was being difficult again. The shorter slate haired man smirked. "His name was Robert Jurgen."

"Get your source on that, see if he gets anything." Kai nodded and Hiro moved further into the room, where the others were working.

Brooklyn standing over the tea table in the center of the room, was examining something small in his hand. Something Kai knew to be the small identification card he had picked up off the table not five minutes ago, yet another disturbance. Kai silently chided him but didn't comment as he watched the man holding it in his gloved hands. Later it would be checked for prints and come up short, the significance of it lying out openly on the table completely forgotten and disregarded, that's why Kai was here: to pay attention to those few seemingly insignificant details that no one else did.

Kai turned his eyes now to the pink-haired woman that knelt on the floor by the horribly disfigured body of the victim. Her gloved hands examined what was left of the man, eyeing the places where the flames had eaten away at his skin and flesh, the gruesome image not seeming to affect her as much as it should have. He had been found with a plastic bag melted to the skin of his face, and the ropes, charred and burned like the rest of his body, melded into his flesh.

Mariah hadn't been in this practice for all that long, two years to be accurate, give or take a few months, but she'd examined her fair share of bodies in that time and before (she hadn't always worked with Hiro) before this detective work, it had been the morgue, and before that some hospital. But as the 28 year old woman examined the body that lay before her, charred and damaged, she couldn't help but think something was off about the way this murder was conducted. The same thoughts ran through the mind of each of the officers standing throughout room this was definitely different.

The open window let in a strong wind, blowing out some of the revolting odor of burning flesh, and with it yet more evidence, replacing it with the crisp New York air.

-o-

Hiro passed between the desks, lined up in the department building, on his way to the top floor where his department's offices where located. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his long beige trench coat, he didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, that was until the barely noticeable force of a paper ball struck him at the side of the head. "Hey, Granger, congrats on the case, man." The voice of the blonde called over the heads of their colleges.

"We haven't solved it yet, Parker." Hiro replied in a monotone drawl to the cocky man that sat lounging in the chair of one of the many desks in the room. The DIA officer smirked.

"I meant congratulations on actually getting one." Hiro glared at the younger man's crack at his team, as he snickered, some of the officers surrounding them chuckled along as well. Michael Parker was a head officer in the department of internal affairs, he was also one of the force's grade-A slackers.

"Shouldn't you be filling paper work or something, Parker?" Hiro replied callously over his shoulder, as he turned back to his original path. He smirked as he walked away, he could almost feel the other man seething behind him, the laughter of some of their colleagues once again filled the room, along with mumbled comments of 'nice try, Parker' and 'you had than one coming to you' and some others to that effect.

Michael had once been one of the city's best field officers, the former homicide officer had worked under his brother, Tyson, in the 'other department', but too many wrong moves had landed right where he was now, working in the DIA's libraries and archives. It was safe to say Michael missed the action.

Hiro climbed the final flight of stairs and passed down the narrow hall to the end where the voices of his team could be heard conversing rather loudly. Hiro pushed the door open, calling order into the single room where his five underlings gathered, all eyes fell on him for only an instant before voices rose again, Hiro sighed. "Alright people, reports." Hiro called over the voices that once again faded into silence.

Kai smirk from his spot in the back, leaning back in the only chair in the room, behind the desk where Hiro should have been sitting. Hiro remained standing in the front of the room, deciding addressing his team from there would be more appropriate.

"What have you got Mariah?" he started turning, to the pink haired girl that sat upon the desk currently occupied by Kai.

"Well, he definitely didn't do it and run, seeing as the body was still there when we arrived and not charred to bits, he hung around long enough to put out the flames." She handed a file to Hiro as she spoke, "There was no sign of a fight, but he has markings on his wrist almost as if he was bound, and then there are the ropes, burned into his flesh." She continued as Hiro flipped through the photos the file had contained. "From what I can tell he seems to have suffocated from the smoke and lack of oxygen, not much else is discernable, you know how fire destroys virtually all evidence. But I'm going to need to examine the body one more time, just to be sure." The equipment, or lack of, allowed at a crime scene didn't allow them to gather all the information possible, she was going to need to examine it in a more suitable environment.

Hiro nodded to her, "and the tests?"

"Results should be in tomorrow morning, then we'll be able to figure out if there were any additional factors." Mariah reported.

Hiro nodded turning his eyes to his next victim, Ian Papov sat on the floor, leaning up against the wall behind him, forearms resting on his raised knees, and he watched his captain. The violet haired boy was a former member of a SWAT squad; Ian specialized in weaponry and physical evidence.

"Got anything to add?" Hiro regarded him.

"The ropes and the plastic bag, that's about it, no other weaponry was used, though we did find his wallet, that took damage from the fire too, there wasn't much else going on, looked as if the bastard was just having a normal day. Aside from that the rest of the place was untouched, nothing seemed to be stolen or damaged."

When Ian finished speaking Hiro turned to Salima, leaning up against the wall next to Ian, she hadn't been at the crime scene, Salima Adair was well versed in the study of people, people and relations was her specialization, while the rest of the team had been investigating the crime scene, Salima had been locked away in the office she shared with Ian, searching through records and cashing in favors at the department, compiling a profile of the murdered victim.

"Robert Jurgen was an heir, the last son of an old British family, most of his cash and possessions were thanks to his inheritance, but recently he's been selling some old art works for quite a bit of cash. Before that there was some form of income into his bank account, were not sure of the source." She held the file in her hand, though it wasn't open, she relied strictly on her photographic memory. "He's got no criminal record, a couple parking tickets, that's about it, we don't know much else about him."

"According to his phone bill, the last person he talked to was a Jonathan McGregor, someone he's been in contact with a lot in recent years the phone call was traced back to Virginia, it was about two minutes before the estimated time of murder. He should be flying in later tonight, we've got a couple people set up to meet him, it couldn't have been him, but it's possible he's an accomplice." She stuffed her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket as she spoke. "Other than that, no friends, no family."

"I'm going to need you to take care of the interrogation tomorrow, he should be kept in custody until then." Salima nodded. "And what about records? Anything on him?"

Salima shook her head "he used to be a huge business owner a little while back. But then it crashed, he's currently unemployed now, but there are signs of business dealings between him and Robert, there has been record of transactions between the two bank accounts. No criminal record."

Hiro sighed, processing the information as he advanced across the cramped room towards his desk, the chair of which Kai had evacuated at some point during the meeting and moved to stand against wall beside it. Dropping into the chair he rolled it up closer to the desk, taking in his hands the remaining file that had been left there by Ian before the meeting began. Things weren't looking good so far.

"And what about the kid the officers found in the back room before we arrived."

"Oliver Polanski, age19, of French origin, he has yet to be questioned, no records whatsoever." Salima answered automatically. Hiro nodded, then picking up the rectangular cut wire rimmed glasses from the desk before him he placed them on his nose, and opened Ian's data file.

"Kai?" He gave the ok for him to start reporting as he flipped casually through the photographs in the file before him.

"Jurgen's an intended target." Kai began, his voice calm and monotone as usual, "It's obvious in the way he works that this guy is out for some sort of revenge. Considering of course that his valuables were left untouched, as was the rest of the place, the only damage done was in the room he occupied at the time of the murder. It could possibly have something to do with his assumed illegal activities, according to the doctor we've got ourselves a dead art forger, hundred year old paintings were found in the back room…still drying." Kai paused for a minute.

"It's highly doubtful this was a random act of murder. The ID the murderer left lying out on the table is plainly a challenge, he wants to be chased, so there will probably be other murders, it could possibly be a game he's playing."

Brooklyn raised his eyebrows at that final comment, _and what a very twisted game it was, _Brooklyn silently concluded, pacing across the room to open the small window in the corner, the room was far too stuffy with so many people crowded inside of it, Kai was probably right.

"If so, than there's probably something that we've missed, something that will hint us to his next attack, considering we haven't already found it."

"How can you say that?" Mariah turned to him shocked at his cold attitude.

"Let's be realistic, Mariah," Hiro cut in, "We don't have nearly enough information right now, and this guy wants to play, he'll string us along until he accidentally lets too much slip."

"So what do we do?" Brooklyn asked, standing beside Mariah.

"We play his game." Kai answered in Hiro's place, shrugging one shoulder.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, and ran his hands through his hair in an aggravated manner. "Brooklyn, I want you to be there tomorrow with Salima, for the interrogation. Ian and I will go back to the crime scene, and see if we can dig anything up." Hiro pushed his glasses back up his nose as he spoke, and closed the file he hadn't been paying much attention to.

"Mariah and Kai, the two of you have your assignments." He stated, just for the sake of having something to say. "Well if no one has anything else to add..." He mumbled standing from his seat and removing his glasses.

"I've got something to add," Hiro turned to the small lavender haired man. "If you're planning on having another one of these little gatherings, you might need a bigger office." He smirked, and Hiro rolled his eyes.

A chuckle rose around the room, "Well I'm going home" Hiro sighed slipping his glasses into his pocket, "meet me in front of the building at nine" he spoke to Ian before pulling open the door and leaving the room, "'night." He called back to them as he walked down the hall.

-o-

"Hello." He stood just outside the building, leaning up against the wall with the small black device to his ear.

"_Miss me already? We just spoke this morning._" The voice that answered him back was as cold as his own.

"I've got another name for you." He told the disembodied voice of the red head on the other end of the line.

"_Besides Jurgen? Shoot_."

"Jonathan McGregor."

"_Ah, Johnny huh? This one's still among the living._" Kai smirked. "_Deadline?_" he asked.

"You've got until tomorrow night, Tal, dig up whatever you can find."

"_You got it._" with that he hung up the phone, slipping into the pocket of his black coat.

**TBC**

* * *

This chapter was written by **JamieRay** for the Beyblade Community Project.

* * *

_The Beyblade Community Project is a giant collaborative, improvisational fan fiction with a different author contributing a new chapter every week._

Do _you _want to write the next chapter? Do you know what happens next?_  
_

_**Get Involved**  
_

Visit our profile and post in the forum to find out how. Don't be shy, in order for this to work we need your help!


	3. Interrogations

_Interrogations_

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by **phoenixandtiger**

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'Who are we getting again? Some redhead?' a deep voice said, its owner leaning against the wall.

'Johnny McGregor, spiky dark red hair, blue headband, average build and height. And I really wish you'd stop smoking so much, it's bad for your health.'

Bryan shrugged, breathing in a drag just to piss Max off. 'Like you care. When does his flight come in?'

'In 'bout an hour. We have a long wait ahead of us.'

'Oh, shut up. Who was it that got here first?'

'I give.'

He snickered as he blew out a puff of air.

'If it wasn't because of the fact that you saved my goddammed _life_, I would kill you, painfully.'

'Didn't I tell you already? We're even for that.' At the other's blue-eyed glare, he raised his hands in a 'calm down' gesture. 'Okay, fine, owe me whatever.'

...

'Oh, is that the flight?'

'Yeah, guess so.'

They left the shadow of the wall, the taller of them reaching behind him to feel the gun tucked into his jeans, covered by his jacket.

'And, and, it's best to not scare this guy. Salima told me he might have bodyguards and/or weapons on him.'

'Don't worry your blonde little head about it, I got this. Is that guy him?'

'Which one...right. Yeah, the one in the black hoodie. So how exactly are you going to do this - hey, don't just go running off!' he shouted, but the other didn't hear, already less than halfway from the redhead.

The blonde raced to catch up to his partner, already dreading the amount of paperwork he would have to fill out...or he could just dump it on Hiro - after all, it _was_ a favor, as Mariah called it.

By the time he got to them, the other's mouth was twisted into a cocky smirk and the redhead was saying, 'Think I can do the same now?'

'Nope. And Max, you might want to Mirandize him or something, I forgot most of it.'

'You are _so_ lucky the boss doesn't know that. Johnny McGregor, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult with an attorney and have him present during questioning, and if you don't have one, one will be provided for you at no cost to represent you. Do you understand all that?'

He rolled his eyes and jerked his arms when the handcuffs were placed onto his wrists. 'Yes, I understand all of that – I've had those read to me for nearly my entire lif - Oh shit.'

'I distinctly remember reading that he never had a criminal record - what the heck was he talking about back there?' Max whispered to the other as they shoved McGregor into the back seat of the cruiser.

'He paid off a guy to erase it,' he replied, strangely tight-lipped.

Max gave him a look as he slid behind the wheel, but was mute as he went on the freeway. Next to him, the other lit up a smoke again, rolling down the window just a tiny bit.

X

'...Do you understand your rights as they have been said to you?'

The meek, green-haired boy only jabbered away in French, a frightened look on his face and his fingers twitching, for what though, Brooklyn was uncertain of. But he'll figure it out. He always does.

Salima gave him a panicked look as she tried to calm the painter down, mouthing, 'Anyone speak French here?'

'I think Hiro's brother is fluent,' Brooklyn whispered. 'I'll go ask.'

She nodded, offering the painter a timid smile.

He left and got out his phone to call their leader. _'What's up?'_

'Oliver Polinski only speaks French.'

_'Shit.'_

'Yep. I understand that you don't like asking your little brother for favors, but this time it's necessary, unless you know someone else who speaks French.'

Hiro sighed, a noise that became raspy as it went through the speaker. _'Sure there's no one else?'_

'Yeah.'

_'Fine, I'll go call him - he should be at the room in ten minutes. Room 1, right?'_

'Right then, we'll be expecting him... Thanks, Hiro, I know how hard this must be for you.'

_'All in the name of justice, eh?'_

X

'I have to ask - what did you mean, he paid off some guy to erase it?' Max demanded, facing his partner head-on.

Dead grey eyes stared back, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. 'Nothing. Leave it, alright? It wasn't important.'

'_Tell me_. If you know him, you have to let Hiro know. It could risk - '

'I get it, it'll risk the outcome, blah blah blah, you're not supposed to have any relations with suspects, I learned my lesson last time with that other perp.'

His blue eyes steeled. 'Don't play with me.'

The other spat out the cigarette into the garbage can, walking to the door. '_I _did it, happy now? I erased all traces of his fucking criminal record because he paid me off.'

'But - Bryan, _why_?'

He looked back to see Max's eyes watering. '_Balkov_ made me hack into the system and change it - he and Johnny were pulling off a huge drug dealing or something like that,' he muttered, and left, the door swinging shut after him.

The blonde only shook his head - he knew all about Bryan's 'dark period' (or 'what he did before he joined the force', but that was too long of a title for it), as him and others called it. But sometimes, he just wished the other would _talk_ to someone about it, instead of keeping it all bottled up.

X

The door clicked open and Brooklyn and Salima looked up to see Hiro's cocky little brother stride in, a shit-eating grin on his face. Salima sighed and led him to Interrogation Room 1, hissing, 'Don't get _too_ excited - the suspect's name is Oliver Polinski and we've yet to Mirandize him in a language he understands.'

'Mm-hm. Got it. So you want me to Mirandize him and basically translate everything.'

'Bingo.' She pushed open the door and gestured him in, exchanging a look of exasperation with Brooklyn before walking in herself.

_'Hi Oliver, my name is Tyson and I will be your translator today,'_ he said, sticking out a hand for a shake, but Oliver only said something else while shaking his head. 'He says he didn't do anything wrong - he needed the money for his family because his mother's sick and in the hospital and he didn't have any other way to pay off the debtors.'

'Mirandize him first, Granger, we're starting the interrogation.'

_'Oliver, this is necessary - you have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand this?'_

He nodded, and Salima sat down, shuffling some papers in her hands. 'All right - Oliver, we want you to answer a few questions, can you do that for us?'

Tyson translated it for him, and he cautiously said, 'Oui.'

'Okay. Oliver, do you know this man?' She took out a picture of Johnny McGregor and pointed at him.

X

'People, stop chatting!' he shouted into the room. The five already in the stuffy room paused and looked at him. Hiro gave a tired huff and asked, 'Brooklyn, Salima, anything new?'

'It depends, really. Polinski's mother is in the hospital. He has a sister who was working for Jurgen, but when his mother fell to stroke, she quit and began to pick up odd jobs so she could have more time to take care of her.'

'He also said he doesn't know McGregor, but that might be a lie - I'm pretty sure Jurgen didn't contact Polinski himself,' Brooklyn added, standing next to the window. 'And your brother - do you think if I killed him after this case, will I be prosecuted?'

'Ha. Ha. Salima, did you get to McGregor yet?'

'Not yet, sorry. We'll do it tomorrow - right now he's in a holding cell.'

'That's fine. Mariah?'

'Right. So, I looked over the body twice - the tests were taking too long, and I was getting bored just sitting there - but anyways. I found a marking between Jurgen's clavicles - really _really_ faint, so I didn't see it the first time, but I blew it up as big as it could go with blurring and here is a picture of it.' She handed him a sheet of paper, and he glanced at it before putting it with the rest of the files. 'Could mean something special - X marks the spot or something like that? Or a calling card?'

She paused for a bit before continuing, 'I also looked up old records of autopsies, and you won't believe this - this exact pattern of killing was present in another case, almost six years back. The ME for that retired already, but forget about him - the body was burned, exactly like this, and there was a X on the spot between the vic's collarbones, really faint, but it was still there.'

Hiro blinked. 'Well, that throws a wrench into everything. Kai?'

He shook his head wordlessly. 'Not yet.'

'Well, do whatever you can right now, yeah? Anyone else have something to add? And no, Brooklyn, you can_not_ kill Tyson. Maybe in fifty years and we're all old cronies and no one will suspect us of anything because we can't walk without a cane.'

X

The flames flickered in the room as he watched from the balcony, a crazed look in his eyes.

It licked at edges of papers, at curtains, at bedsheets, at flesh and bones and hair, at everything, and he couldn't be happier.

**TBC**

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This chapter was written by **phoenixandtiger** for the Beyblade Community Project.

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